Ariadne's Dreams Ch. 04

A few days after her encounter with Emily, Emily had arranged for Ariadne's Sybian machine to be delivered . . . along with a few other gifts, free as charge. To Ariadne's surprise, however, Emily came by to oversee the delivery and installation personally. Ariadne was surprised to see the young girl at her doorstep, but let her in along with the muscular moving crew. The two mostly sat around and drank some tea while the men set things up. All the while, Emily and Ariadne exchanged meaningful subtext and shot sly looks from opposite of the dining table. Once or twice, both women even played footsies with one another under the table.

Finally, when the moving crew announced they were done, Ariadne tipped them and saw them to the door. The van hadn't even disappeared down the block when she felt Emily's lips nibbling at her ear and the woman's hands under her blouse.

Emily helped Ariadne "break in" her new toy, and both women took turns riding it, occasionally while the other straddled her face. Eventually, the two wound up in the bedroom, where Emily spent the whole night and called in sick the next morning.

"Hey, asshole. If I could mind the store for a whole week for your measly ass, you can certainly handle just one day."

Emily did her best to control her breathing, to not give the indication that there was a woman pressed behind her, rubbing her clit and cupping her tits.

"Yeah, I know you've got class later. Just close the shop early if you gotta. I think we'll be good just this once. Alright. Yeah. I love you, too, shithead."

"Yeah, well, if I didn't he'd think something was up. I had to be my usual bitter self. Couldn't let on that I actually feel really, really damn good at the moment."

"Oh yeah?" Ariadne said, licking her neck. "Show me how good you feel."

The young woman smirked. "Oh, I intend to, sweetie . . ."

Ariadne and Emily's "lesbian" escapades continued throughout December, usually with Emily coming by Ariadne's place and into her bed, but occasionally with Ariadne taking new trips into Emily's workshop and trying out new things. Ariadne soon discovered her first fetish—fucking machines. Especially ones which worked best with her on all fours. There was just something kinky about being bent over and allowing a hydraulic shaft to drill into her ass and pussy that drove her crazy—craz-ier than usual.

And she learned Emily's fetishes, too. Despite her rough-and-tumble look, Emily loved when Ariadne took charge and teased or punished her. Emily was a "stimulation" girl that enjoyed feeling pressure and vibration against her clit rather than actual penetration. Each session with Ariadne caused her to understand why most women thought men were inferior in bed—Ariadne didn't mind taking her time, and she could pick up on the signals of another woman easier than men could.

"Fuck, if I'd known what being with a woman was like all this time . . ." she cried out one night in Ariadne's bed.

"Same reason as you, I guess. Never thought I'd like it. I mean, don't get me wrong . . . all evidence to the contrary, I love men."

"So do I," Ariadne said, punctuating on the irony by nibbling on Emily's clit.

"Unnnngh . . .! Yeah, but most guys can't make me cum, and so few like to eat pussy or can't eat it properly. You're lucky—you get off just on being penetrated, so you can get the most out of a good dick."

That was more true than she imagined, Ariadne thought wistfully.

"Well, I tell you what," she said, gently licking Emily's thighs, "when I find a guy who can do both equally, I'll let you know. And we can both share."

"Oooh!" the very thought brought Emily close to cumming. "Damn, I forgot how dirty your mind can be. But, that idea makes me so wet. You got a deal, sister. Now please, hurry and make me cum . . . I'm so close!"

Ariadne grinned and played with her friend's pussy a little longer, doing just enough to keep her teetering on the edge of orgasm. Emily cursed and pleaded, but she loved the teasing. It only made the real orgasm that much more intense when it finally came.

The times when Emily wasn't around, Ariadne once again found herself thinking about her son—who hadn't written or called since he left. She had taken to drinking some nights, when cold realization struck. Part of her tried to remain optimistic—after all, he hadn't called to ask for her to send all of his things to Cali. . . and she didn't have anyone knocking at her door asking questions about an indecent relationship with her son. Right now, the only thing she had to worry about was the awkward, incessant silence.

And, actually, that was the harshest thing of all.

Soon, Christmastime rolled around and Ariadne couldn't stand it any more. She picked up the phone and called her son's dorm. She made certain to call in the late evening, so she could catch him out of class, but before he went to bed. Shaky fingers punched in the numbers on the touch-tone and she sucked through her teeth as she nervously listened to the ringing line.

A male voice she didn't recognized answered, chuckling on the other end. "Haha—quit that! . . . Dammit, I got the phone, you buttwipe!"

"Er . . . hello?"

"Heeeeey," the voice said, half-drunk. "Who's this?!"

"Um, is Barry there?"

"Barry?" He grumbled loudly. "Oh yeah, hang on a sec. Yo, Barry! There's a hot bitch on the phone for you. Doesn't sound like Suzanna, though. She know you cheating on her?"

She supposed that she should have been surprised. Barry was a handsome young man, and remarkably fit. She wouldn't have been surprised to know that he had many conquests—even before leaving for Fresno, he was always staying late at parties and bringing girls home with him. She'd never known him to be serious about any of them, but he was only a boy. Now, it only made sense for him to want something more serious.

Oh Lord . . . had she made her son cheat on some poor girl?

"Yo?"

"Barry? Oh thank God you're there, sweetie."

Ariadne heard something cover the receiver and then, muffled, she heard: "Hey! This is my mom, you ass!"

The other voice responded, "Yeah? Well my bad . . . but she sounds like a MILF."

Barry's voice returned to the line. "Hey, what's up?"

Thank goodness he sounded normal, she thought. Or, at the least, he was doing a good job of putting up appearances with his roommates. Either way, she didn't want to keep him too long or make him feel awkward, so she got right to the point.

"Are you coming home for Christmas, honey?"

There was a moment of pained silence on the other end. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Barry seemed to pick up that she was starting to cry. His voice lowered to a more tender tone. "Actually, Ma . . . if it's cool with you, I've, uh . . . I've got an internship going on up here in Fresno, and they wanna keep me on through the holidays. I wanna keep on that, if it's okay with you."

Ariadne's heart was positively crushed by her son's response, but she gathered it in and did her best to feign a positive attitude. "That—That's wonderful news, honey! What are you going to be doing?"

"Um . . . actually, I'm not supposed to talk about that right now."

"Oh," she said as the dagger wrenched deeper in her heart. Her vision blurred, left unfocused by the tears pouring forth. He was obviously lying, she knew . . . saying whatever it took to try to avoid breaking her heart. Even after what had happened, and how uncomfortable it had made him, he still thought of her first. He was asking her permission to do something he really wanted to do.

He had grown into such a thoughtful young man.

"Yes, of course, honey. But I just wanted you to know . . . you can come home whenever you like. You know that, don't you?"

He hung up abruptly, and Ariadne was left feeling worse than she had before she dialed. Things were still different—he didn't sound like the enthusiastic, assertive Barry who'd called home months before. He was so withdrawn, so distant, and he responded with no eagerness to the idea of returning home. Sure, he said he wanted to, and even protected her honor when his 'friend' made lewd comments, but it felt arbitrary . . . like he was going through the motions of being a good son.

Not for the first time, Ariadne's guilt led her to realize she had made a terrible mistake. She had thought she had the "slut" under control . . . that it wasn't interfering with her life . . . but this was the proof she had been trying to ignore. This was the first sign.

******

Early the next day, Ariadne made a phone call. After a few rings, she heard Emily's voice on the other line.

The young woman's voice seemed to straighten out immediately. It was easy tell by her tone that she was preparing for some kind of bad news. "What about?"

Ariadne bit her lip before speaking her next sentence. "I don't think we can do this anymore."

". . . Why?" Emily asked after a brief pause.

Strange as it was, Ariadne hadn't prepared for that. It was the most obvious word, and the simplest question, but she simply hadn't anticipated that Emily would ask it. Perhaps because she had assumed, since Emily said she didn't want anything serious with another woman, that she wouldn't question the need for a 'break-up' when it happened. Suddenly, Ariadne didn't know exactly what to tell her. She tried to think of something she could say that wouldn't arouse the girl's suspicions or break her heart.

"My son is coming home tomorrow," she lied. "He's coming for Christmas and New Year's."

". . . So?" Emily stated coldly. "What's that got to do with me?"

"Well, I . . .ah . . . I'll probably need to spend time with him during the holidays, and I don't, um, want him suspicious of what his mom's been up to all this time."

"The fuck does that mean?" Emily snapped. "You suddenly ashamed of it, or something?"

"N-No," Ariadne said, "but . . . it's not decent for a boy to know these sorts of things about his mother . . ."

Emily burst into laughter. "Oh, please, honey. You and I were way past 'decent' from giddy-up. Your boy's a grown man, and if he can't handle that Mommy Dearest likes to get her pussy rocked every now and again, that's his problem. Not yours."

This was exactly the reaction that Ariadne didn't want. In part, she could understand the argument that Emily was making, but she really didn't like having to batter logic against her back and forth.

"Please, Emily. I don't want to make this awkward. Can we just agree to be friends from now on?"

"You know what? No." Emily snapped. "Something's up with you, and if you can't even be straight up with me, then hell no we can't be friends. You can come to my store and you can spend your money, but that's it. We're done. I'd tell you to go fuck yourself and all, but you do that well enough already."

"Emily, wait—" But, it was no use. The line went dead, and Ariadne counted yet another person in her life that she had driven away.

She crawled into bed long before the usual hour—she simply didn't feel very much energy or enthusiasm, so she didn't see much point to trying to stay awake. Hopefully, she could just sleep through her misery, and when she woke up, she could figure out how to put this whole nightmare behind her. Beyond her own, she'd ruined so many other lives . . . Barry's . . . Emily's . . . she cared for them both, and it was her own foolhardiness and lewdness which had gotten her into this.

There was only one thing to do: she had to go back into that secret place inside herself, and she had to shut the door she had left open. She had to lock the slut back inside, deep inside, and never let her out again.

Ariadne took a repeat trip to the drug store and purchased some sleeping pills. When she returned home, she took the recommended dosage and laid in bed, clothed in a blouse, bra and panties. She intended to wear them to bed every night from now on, just to make sure that she exorcised her slut side for good.

It wasn't long after her head touched the pillow that she slipped quickly back into her dreams.

She appeared where she wanted to be—she saw the door right in front of her, wider than it had been when she'd left it the last time, standing half agape, large enough for a thinly-built person to slip through.

She stood firm in her resolve, and she remembered her purpose: the door had to be closed, and locked permanently. She reached out for it, her fingers lightly brushing the knob.

What the hell do you think you're doing?

Ariadne spun, finding herself face-to-face with her alter ego: the nude, disheveled slut she had seen in the glass.

"I'm getting rid of you once and for all," she told her. "You've caused me nothing but trouble!"

Have I? the slut said with a smirk. You've seemed quite happy every time you've let me have control. I gave you everything you wanted . . . everything you needed. Your darling son's cock felt so good when he pounded your pussy, didn't it? And without me, you never would have gotten to taste it.

Ariadne swallowed, knowing the harlot told the truth. But, she remained focused. She kept her willpower. "You might have cost me my only son! You made me hurt poor Emily!"

Please. You did that on your own. If you really wanted Barry to know everything was alright between you, you should have fucked him one more time the day after . . . or sucked him off in the airport parking lot, just for good measure. And Emily only got mad when you chose to stop nibbling her sweet little pussy. She certainly had no quarrel sharing your bed before that.

"I'm not listening to anything you have to say," Ariadne said defiantly. "You just want to take away everything I love!"

Wake up, you imbecilic bitch, the slut said, attempting to tug Ariadne away from the door. Don't you get it? I don't want to hurt you. I AM you. I love Barry the same as you. I care for Emily same as you. Why would I want to hurt them?! You're the one doing that with this ridiculous, prudish façade! I know what they want . . . what we ALL want. This body is a wealthy resource. You have a natural treasure between your legs, and the way you want to hog it all to yourself should be considered a crime! I gave Barry something most mothers could only DREAM of giving their sons. I gave Emily something she never even knew she wanted . . . something she THANKED you for. I know what this body . . . OUR body is worth, and I share it like any responsible woman should. Don't DARE get high-and-mighty with me. I've PROVEN my affection time and again. And if you really loved them, you'd understand that. But you don't, do you? And that's why I'm a better mother than you'll EVER be.

At those words, Ariadne's brow furrowed, and her hand gripped on the knob of the door. She yanked her grip away from her doppelganger. She knew that it had no real power over her—only the power she let it have. "I told you, I don't have anything more to say to you. My son hates me now, and I WILL NOT lose him because of YOU!"

With every ounce of passion she could muster, Ariadne slammed the door, causing the entire empty dreamspace to quake violently. She fell onto her back, unharmed, but panting excitedly. Her doppelganger stared daggers into her, incensed, her body slowly beginning to fade into the aether.

So that's how you want it, then? A wicked grin formed on her lips. But you still don't get it: you can't keep me out. Not now. Now that I've been freed, I'll NEVER truly go away. You'll see. Before you know it, I'll be back even stronger. And this time, it'll be for keeps.

As the last of her faded, the slut's voice rang inside Ariadne's ears. You need me, Aria, dear. And you don't even KNOW it yet. Sweet dreams, honey.

******

Five more months passed. Barry missed coming home for Spring Break as well, but that was halfway expected—what boy wanted to spend Spring Break with his mother? Hell, with her birthday a week or so back, she'd officially hit four-zero. Why would he hang with an old woman, when he was probably cozying up with that 'Suzanna' or whoever she was. At least, she hoped he could be—she hoped she hadn't ruined that relationship, too. Ironically, she had told him to forget about partying in college and focus on his studies, but since when did he listen to her? Heck, as a teenager, he would surely elect to do the opposite merely out of obligation. For the first time in her life, she found herself hoping that her son had disobeyed her.

It wasn't like she had proven herself as the best mother in the past year.

The five-minute phone calls they shared three times a week gradually dwindled to about once a month, with one or two minutes to talk, if she was lucky. He claimed that he was busy with his internship, but still wouldn't tell her what it was about. She still doubted that it even existed. She had never known Barry to lie to her before, but who knew how else things had changed after . . . after she had ruined him?

But then, she finally returned from the store one day in May and found that Barry had left her a message. It was brief, but her heart lit up when Barry explained that both the spring semester and his internship had ended, and he was sure to be coming home for the summer. He'd be leaving for the airport at 6:00 tomorrow, and his flight would arrive in Chicago at around noon. Ariadne bounced on her heels at the news and yelped with joy.

Finally, her baby was coming home, and she could work on mending this unbearable rift between them.

The next day, Ariadne tried to think of what to say to Barry. She had screwed up horribly with Emily, and she was not willing to let her ineptitude make things worse for her and her son. She would apologize to him . . . beg his forgiveness, and promise to get help and counseling if he thought she needed it. She would tell him everything . . . about the daydreams she had after he left, the toys, Emily, and of course . . . "the slut" inside of her. Even if he thought she was absolutely crazy, she would do anything to win him back. He was still all she had left, and she wasn't going to let him escape from her life.

After spending all morning preparing the house for his return, she left for the airport at 10:00. She arrived well before his flight, and eagerly waited at the arrival lobby. The hour and thirty minutes she waited for his plane to arrive was the most uncomfortable wait she'd had since her trip to the drug store and . . .

. . . No, she didn't even want to think about that. Not now.

Finally, the speakers announced the arrival of Flight 43 out of Fresno, and Ariadne eagerly marched to the gate to await the passengers. Her palms sweaty, her heart pounding, she rapidly went over everything that she had practiced—how she would greet him, what she would say, how she would say it, and what posture to hold while she said it.